She presses her nose against the dirty glass smudged with grease from the faces before her She waits to see a flash of familiar skin eyes that feel like home screaming at her from the other side as loud as the beeps from the metal detector The tired phone wire connects them heavy and lifeless sick from all the pain exchanged through its veins “When can you come home?” she asks every time even though the glass whispers the answer She rubs her finger against it with a gentle thank you and tells it she’ll see it again next week